


A'aru

by Lightningpelt



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Afterlife, Ancient Egypt, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Lightningpelt
Summary: The Pharaoh has his reasons for going willingly into the afterlife, and one of them is to make sure that the King of Thieves makes it to the Field of Reeds, as well.Canon-Divergence





	A'aru

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-post from tumblr~ Directly inspired by [this post](http://dmbakura.tumblr.com/post/180461641036/me-coming-to-the-realization-that-atem-simply)!  
> (I think we can all agree the ending of canon could've been handled way better~)

“There are… reasons. I have to do this.”

The Pharaoh’s friends nodded, hearing the difficulty of the decision in his tone. Jounochi put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever you need to do, man. We’ll be with you.”

Anzu bit her lip, but didn’t raise further objection. Though deeply conflicted, her friend had made his decision, and Anzu trusted his convictions. 

The Pharaoh—Atem, by name—hung his head, hands clasped in his lap. Slowly, his friends left him with his thoughts, Honda following Jounochi and Anzu trailing somewhat behind.

Ryou Bakura lingered, keen eyes fixed on the Pharaoh’s hunched figure. Atem raised his gaze, though he didn’t move otherwise.

“Do you know what happened in the past, Bakura-kun?”

Ryou fidgeted, then said. “Most of it… I think…”

“Has he gone?”

Ryou nodded.

Atem sighed; his head drooped further. Ryou’s posture didn’t waver.

“I want… to be with them…” Atem said softly, and his shoulders quaked once; fell still. He shut his eyes. “Those I left, three thousand years ago… I want to go to them. He must have felt the same. I have friends, though, here… I could stay. I would…  _like_ to stay. But he… for him… that was never an option, was it?”

Ryou shook his head. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ryou knelt, though it wasn’t a subservient gesture—only an attempt to level their heights. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said, with a slight smile. “You’ve been a good friend to me, just like Yugi-kun has. If you feel like apologizing, it isn’t me you need to apologize to.”

Atem nodded; smiled. “Thank you. You’ve been a good friend, as well.”

Ryou’s smile softened, and he placed one hand over Atem’s. They sat like that for a moment, peaceful, until Atem began to slowly nod.

“Thank you…” he said again. “I’ll… go, then.”

Ryou nodded, rising. “Have a good journey. Say hello to him for me, in A'aru.”

Once Ryou had gone, Atem felt Yugi surface within his consciousness.  _Partner? Were you listening?_

_No,_  Yugi replied.  _But I know what you’re planning to do. You’ve been thinking about it a lot. We aren’t so separate that I wouldn’t catch on._

_Do you think I’m doing the right thing?_  Atem tried to keep his fear from bleeding into the thought, and knew he didn’t entirely succeed.

There was no hesitation in Yugi’s answer.  _Yes. I’ll be sad… we all will be. But…_

_I have something I need to do. Something that won’t wait another lifetime._

_Right._

_He’s waited long enough, already._

… … …

Despite his certainty, the Pharaoh Atem was frightened. The Ceremonial Duel had calmed his doubts; he’d had fun, dueling Yugi at last. Their friends had cheered for them both.

Alone, Atem walked into the brilliant white. He saw his loved ones waiting for him, but passed them by. They fell back obligingly, waiting. Slowly, through the haze of blinding light, reeds faded into view. Atem felt his feet sink into soft, wet soil with every step—it was the rich sort of earth that prosperity sprang up readily from, and Atem’s heart ached for simpler days spent alongside the Nile. He reminded himself that an eternity of such days stretched before him, and kept walking.

The light tempered, then began to fade. As Atem pressed through the endless reeds, the mud grew deeper, sucking at his feet. Warm liquid washed about his legs, and he thought of those who had died during floods—children swept away; fishermen caught unawares and dragged down by the current. Darkness encroached, and he reached out one hand to guide himself through the reeds. They felt oily to the touch.

As the last of the light vanished, Atem struggled to keep moving; couldn’t. The mud was too thick, now up to his knees, and the liquid swirled around his waist. The scent of it had changed, by then, from the musty river-smell of home to a pungent, metallic odor. Atem tried again to move, and failed.

“Gods damn…” he muttered, and felt something bulky pass through the water beside his legs. He shied instinctively away from it, eyes rendered useless.

A godly voice spoke: “You’ve strayed quite far from your world of light, Lord Pharaoh.”

Atem twisted. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out the speaker, but he could see the reflective eyes of a night predator—a jackal. He held the creature’s gaze and said, “I have to retrieve him.”

“Venturing into these waters is reckless,” Anubis stated. “Ammit might take it into her head to eat you despite the lightness of your heart.”

Again Atem felt a large creature glide past him, and trembled. His heart beat faster, but he didn’t look away from Anubis. “I’ll take that risk.”

“We gods could look into the matter, if you so desire,” Anubis said, his tone reasonable. “Circumstances are such that—“

"No. It has to be me.” Atem held his head high. “I mean no disrespect, of course. But it was man—me, and my line—who wronged him, not the gods. So  _I_  must be the one to retrieve him.”

Anubis gave a soft sigh; closed his luminous eyes. “Of course. Very well, then.”

Atem scarcely had time to gasp as the mud dragged him suddenly down. He reached up reflexively, desperately, to claw at the surface as he was pulled under with a splash. He drew a breath; choked, violently, on the foul tasting liquid—blood, surely, but sour with disease and filth. Atem gagged, blind and able to hear only the frantic pounding of his own heart. He prayed earnestly, for a moment, that Ammit would swoop in and end him before he could drown in agony.

Then he was falling. Atem tried to cry out, but his throat was still clogged; he hit the ground with a wet _thunk_. He choked; gagged, and tried to vomit up what he’d swallowed of the liquid and mud. When he managed a fit of coughing and gasping breath, the air tasted of decay. It was hot; cloyingly humid; miserable. He looked down at the surface below him and realized it was the source of the stench—that  _it_ was rotting flesh.

“Welcome, Pharaoh.”

Atem looked up at the rasping voice and saw a shape hunched against one curved wall. Atem scrambled up onto his knees, leaning forward. It was difficult to draw in the sticky air, and his breath came in quick little gasps.

“Bakura?”

The figure shifted, but didn’t otherwise move. Atem edged forward, never fully standing. His feet dragged across the moist ground.

“To what do I owe this visit?” the King of Thieves rasped; Atem couldn’t yet see him clearly, but his voice was unmistakable. “Got lost on your way to paradise?”

Atem swallowed, his stomach turning with nausea. “I came…” For a moment, he struggled to breathe, and fear seized him. He forced out the rest: “… to get you.”

Bakura laughed—a faint, grating sound, harsh in the stagnant air. “You came to get me?” he echoed, then scoffed. “What nonsense. Do you even know where you are right now?”

Atem shook his head; panted, and fell still for a moment, unable to press forward.

“You’re inside Zorc Necrophade’s  _carcass_ ,” Bakura snarled, and Atem felt his body go cold despite the horrible heat. “I couldn’t get out. And that’s fine. I get this personal little hell all to myself. And then  _you_ turn up.” He scoffed. “Leave. If you can. You won, I failed. I lost my soul. Just leave me be.”

Atem shook his head; pulled himself a bit closer. He could see, now, Bakura’s red robe draped around his shoulders and pooling around where he sat. He could see the thief’s matted gray hair, and he could see the gauntness in his features. He could see the scar. Bakura didn’t look at him.

“Bakura, I’m sorry.”

“For winning?” Bakura shrugged. “Don’t be absurd. A fight is a fight. No use saying stupid things like ‘sorry.’”

But Atem shook his head. “Not for winning. I’m sorry for everything that happened before. I’m sorry for what my father did. I’m sorry for what  _I_  did, and for what I didn’t do. I’m so sorry, Bakura.”

Bakura’s eyes widened steadily, as Atem spoke, and when the Pharaoh fell silent he rounded on him. “You’re  _sorry_?” he snarled, eyes wild and teeth borne. “Where do you get  _off_?!”

Atem didn’t have time to jerk back before Bakura’s hands wrapped around his throat. Jagged nails dug into his skin, and Atem struggled to keep from striking back. He let Bakura squeeze; mangle his neck with trembling fingers. Then, when Bakura’s grip slackened, he drew back. Bakura made a feeble attempt to follow, but his body sagged; pulled against the stringy flesh connecting him to the wall of the gruesome cavern.

The King of Thieves, his head hanging, reached out a shaking hand; his other was braced against the ground.

Atem moved forward again, wrapping his arms around Bakura. The thief stiffened. “Come on…” he murmured. “You can call me stupid… you don’t have to accept my apology… but come with me… let’s get out of here.”

With the embrace, the flesh connecting Bakura to what was left of Zorc began to wither away. Atem felt more of Bakura’s weight rest on him, as the connections broke, and strove not to falter despite the oppressive heat and lack of oxygen.

“Leave me…” Bakura mumbled, although seeming to lack the strength to push away. “Go away… just leave me be…!”

“You’ve been alone for long enough…” Atem replied, and pulled gently to hasten the separation. “You certainly don’t have to keep  _my_ company, but I’m at least getting you out of here…”

Bakura didn’t respond. The last of the fleshy tendrils withered away, and Atem bundled the thief close to him despite how it made the heat that much worse. Belatedly, Bakura began to shove him as if in protest.

“Get off… get off me…!” he growled, then spat, “You smell like damn lotus! Giving me a headache…”

Atem almost laughed.  _And lotuses smell far worse than rotting demon-god flesh, of course…_  he thought, but allowed Bakura to push away. He still kept a hold of Bakura’s shoulders, and together they stood; stumbled slightly, but kept their feet, and held one another’s upper arms for stability.

“And what now?” Bakura huffed—an attempt at harshness undermined by breathlessness. His eyes had gone wild, apathy usurped by survival instinct. Atem wondered how many times that instinct had kept him alive in the desert or in the streets. “Thought this through  _real_ well, didn’t you?”

“Just…” Atem took as deep a breath as he could of the stifling, putrid air; prayed, fervently,  _Osiris! Show me the way back, please! Mother Isis, guide us home!_

Atem closed his eyes, and for a long moment nothing changed. He grew dizzier, breath quickening with want of oxygen; he felt Bakura stagger. But then, just as his panic was building to something unmanageable, water rushed upwards around their feet. Atem heard Bakura gasp, and then they were engulfed; swallowed up by blissfully cool liquid. Atem kept his eyes shut, but clung tighter to Bakura; held on as if both their souls depended on it.

They broke out into open air a moment later, both gasping and spluttering. Atem blinked water from his eyes, though unwilling to spare a hand from Bakura to brush his sopping hair back. They stood in calm shallows at the edge of the Nile, waist-deep and dripping wet. Bakura seemed a bit worse off, wheezing and hacking up black fluids into the clear water, eyes still screwed shut. When he did open them, he blinked frantically and cursed, pulling back one hand to shield them from the light.

“Aah…” He groaned softly; squinting up at the sky and then averting his eyes. “Burns…”

Atem thanked the gods passionately.

The river had washed the worst of it away, but Atem wiped the last of Zorc’s festering presence off Bakura’s skin. Bakura allowed it, although he grimaced at each touch. When Atem started to guide him toward the river bank, Bakura shrugged his hand away and stalked on ahead.

Atem sighed, perhaps a bit sadly, and glanced across the Nile. He wondered if he should head back the way he’d come and let the King of Thieves go off alone, now that his soul was safe in A’aru. He likely wanted to be left to himself, as he’d said. Atem had accomplished what he’d set out to, and he’d said what he felt he needed to. He expected no thanks, nor even an acknowledgment, from the King of Thieves. Yet it felt like something was still undone, and so Atem trailed behind Bakura to the bank.

“Ryou asked me to say hello for him, when I found you,” Atem called, suddenly remembering.

Bakura paused, then gave a fond little chuckle. “He was an odd one, wasn’t he…? I wasn’t really myself… Zorc was there too, but… we really did some awful things to our sweet host.” He glanced back; said, “If you see him before I do, tell him I’m sorry for the trouble, okay?”

Atem nodded. “I will. But he does understand.”

“Yeah… more than most… He should’ve tossed the Ring away. It would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

_But then you would’ve still been trapped inside…_  Atem thought, feeling pain lance through him. He remembered the millennia he’d spent inside the Puzzle; how it had stripped away any sense of self or stability that he’d had left. He’d gone mad.  _But when Yugi solved the Puzzle… then I was able to make friends. My Partner helped me shake off the shadows that had overcome me…_ _But for you, Bakura… it must’ve been so much harder. And still you say… so offhandedly… that Ryou should have simply cast you away and saved us the trouble._

Bakura trudged out of the river, exhaustion laid bare in the way he carried himself. Yet he also looked alive in the sunlight—his silver hair shone, ruffled by a mellow breeze, and his skin had a healthy depth of color. Atem hoped he would thrive, in the paradise of the afterlife. All Egyptians had prayed for such things, after all—even the thief Bakura must have wished it, if just once, fleetingly. Despite all the so-called trouble, Atem was glad that Ryou had kept the Ring, if only so both their souls could reach the A’aru, the Field of Reeds.

Bakura stopped at the crest of the bank, surrounded by those gently waving reeds. Atem hesitated, wondering if he should hang back, but then approached. When he reached Bakura’s side, he turned; saw Bakura’s wide eyes fixed on the village just ahead. Bakura’s mouth hung slightly open, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t look over at Atem.

Atem’s head tilted slightly. “Bakura? Are you alright?”

Bakura’s face twisted suddenly, his mouth contorting in a sob. Atem, alarmed, took a step forward.

“It’s—!” Bakura began, but choked; covered his mouth with one arm, though his eyes stayed wide and fixed forward. He wailed, though the sound was muffled, “It’s Kul Elna…!”

Atem looked sharply over at the village, mouth opening. He could see people moving among the streets; hear the faint sounds of everyday life. “Bakura…”

“Gods, it’s really…!” Bakura cried, then hid his face. He composed himself; sniffled, and wiped his face briskly with his hands. Then he turned to Atem, eyes shining despite their red edging. “It’s really here!”

Atem, uncertain what to say, nodded. “I’m so glad.”

Bakura hesitated, then said, “Come see it.”

Atem blinked. “What?”

Bakura trotted forward, then looked back; jerked his head. “Come on, Pharaoh. Come see it for yourself, how it was. Come meet my family.”

Atem followed, thinking his own loved ones could wait a moment more; thinking that such a gesture shouldn’t be refused, under the circumstances. He kept a respectful yard or so behind Bakura as they walked, not wanting to impose, but eventually Bakura turned.

“Come here, stupid!” he called, grinning more honestly than Atem had seen. Atem thought the expression suited him well. “Acting all meek—who do you think you’re fooling?”

Atem chuckled; trotted to catch up. “Fine…”

Side by side, Pharaoh and King of Thieves walked through the reeds toward the peaceful village. Deep within Kul Elna, a woman—slight of build, with silver hair and dark gray eyes—looked up from her washing. She raised one hand to her mouth, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and whispered the name of the son she’d thought was forever lost.


End file.
